


A Simple Equation

by Artemis_Egeria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Relationship, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 10:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16324853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Egeria/pseuds/Artemis_Egeria
Summary: Vision begins to learn what would best be left unsaid.





	A Simple Equation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Sam’s scoffing when Vision says he has an equation in _Civil War_.

“Hello, Mr. Wilson,” Vision phased into the common area, attempting to enter close enough to be easily heard but far enough away to not startle him. He examined Mr. Wilson’s plate as the man continued to add more food to it. “According to my calculations, your dinner brings your calorie consumption to an amount 22.5% higher than your nutritional needs to maintain your current body mass index.”

He looked up sharply from his plate, frowning at Vision. “You’ve been tracking what I eat?” He placed his plate on the counter and folded his arms over his chest. His challenging expression did not waver.

Vision sensed that he was entering dangerous territory, but he could not fathom why his entirely factual observation elicited such a reaction. “I track what every team member eats to ensure optimal functioning and performance during training.” He wished only to be helpful.

“And do you call everyone out on it?” Mr. Wilson’s bearing reminded Vision that he had been a soldier. He stood straight, expanding to his full height, though he was still much shorter than Vision.

“Well,” Vision weighed his words carefully, “Agent Romanoff, Colonel Rhodes, and Captain Rogers always consume within 2% of their recommended calorie intakes.” He counted off on his fingers as he listed his teammates. “Miss Maximoff regularly falls well below her recommended levels of consumption, but my attempts at encouraging her to eat have been met with significant resistance. I meant no offense.”

“Yeah, alright, but sometimes a man’s got to eat.” He demonstrated by taking a large bite. “Training was extra hard today.”

Training had been difficult. Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff allowed them no quarter. After several weeks of learning to train together, they determined that a true test of their physical abilities was needed. But that did not change the mechanism for measuring one’s basal metabolic rate. “Your higher than average physical activity levels are already factored into the equation.”

Vision’s argument apparently held no weight with his teammate. “Look, Vision, it’s frowned upon to comment on what your friends eat.” Perhaps something else was amiss with Vision’s modeling.

“Oh, noted.” He nodded to himself and filed the comment away into his memory banks. “I apologize.”

“It’s okay.” Mr. Wilson merely shook his head, in a gesture that Vision had learned could indicate amusement, exasperation, or resignation. “Just cool it a bit. See you tomorrow.” He removed his plate from the counter then, presumably to eat within his own quarters. Vision remained in the kitchen, pondering.

He did not realize how dark it had become until someone turned on a light switch. He looked over to see Miss Maximoff blinking at him. “Vision, what are you doing standing in the dark?”

“I have been trying to construct an equation to determine what topics of conversation are appropriate in social bonding and which are off-limits.”

“Oh.” She started making herself a plate and placed it in the microwave and turned back to him. “You’re not going to tell me that I’m not eating enough to meet my caloric needs?” Her eyebrow was raised at him in a familiar skeptical gesture.

“I can if you wish, but that was actually the impetus for my contemplation.” Vision looked down and away from her. “Mr. Wilson did not appreciate my commenting on his food intake.”

“Well, it’s not usually considered polite.” Her tone was gentle, and he sensed no judgment in her demeanor.

“So I have been informed.” The nuances of human interaction frequently eluded him. It had all seemed so simple when he had first emerged from the Cradle. He had to join with the Avengers to stop Ultron and protect all life on the planet. He had to convince them to work with him. It had only slowly sunk in during the first days after their victory that he would now have to decide how to live every day going forward.

It took him a moment to realize that Miss Maximoff was speaking again. “Did you tell him he was eating too much or too little?” Her considering stare burned into him as she examined him.

“Too much.”

She removed her plate from the microwave before responding. When she turned back to him, he noted that her eyes were shadowed, as they had been since her brother’s death, but her lips were quirked into a slight smile. “People tend to think you’re micromanaging them, and a lot of people don’t like that.”

“Oh.” He felt his lips turn down unconsciously. “I did not intend to be a nuisance. I was merely concerned about his well-being.” His hands flexed against the countertop.

“I know that.” Miss Maximoff covered his hand with hers, and he jumped and pulled back his arm. “I’m sorry!” A look of alarm ghosted over her face.

He realized that he had sunk about a foot into the floor. Correcting his position, he attempted to formulate some series of words to soothe her concerns. “Do not worry, Miss Maximoff. I was merely startled. I do not believe anyone has ever casually touched me before.”

“Sorry again. I didn’t realize.” Her cheeks grew redder as she played with her rings.

“I understand that the gesture is meant to convey comfort. Is that correct?” The idea of receiving comfort, or even being considered one who would be deserving of comfort, was a novelty. He found it charming.

“Yeah, that’s how I meant it.” Miss Maximoff returned her gaze to him. Taking a bite from her plate, she remained silent. The tines of her fork tapped against her plate as she chewed.

“Thank you. Do you think Mr. Wilson will be angry at me for long?”

“Oh, he’s probably not angry, just mildly annoyed.” Her smile was bright and cheerful, reducing some of the lingering tension in the room. “He’ll probably forget the whole thing by the morning.” She moved around the island to one of the small tables nearby. “I’m going to sit down, so I can eat more comfortably. Do you want to take a seat?”

He tilted his head at her. “You want me to join you?” Miss Maximoff nodded. “Even though I am not eating, nor do I need to sit to be comfortable?”

Vision felt that she was suppressing a wider grin, and perhaps a laugh. “Yes, but only if you want to. I could use the company.” Her fork paused halfway between her plate and her mouth while she waited for his response.

He sat down in the chair next to her. He could become accustomed to these forms of team bonding.

***

The next day Wanda began laying out the place settings for dinner as Sam was cooking. When she was finished, she asked if there was anything else she could do to help. Sam shook his head. “It’s almost done.” Looking over at the table, he asked, “Why did you set six places?”

“Because there are six of us.” She hoped her tone conveyed how obvious the answer to that question was.

Sam appeared to be mentally cataloguing their teammates. “No, five. You, me, Steve, Nat, and Rhodey.”

“And Vision.”

“But he doesn’t eat.”

“So?” Wanda demanded. “He’s still on the team. We can just put the plate back after dinner.”

Sam thought for a moment and looked a tad guilty. “You’re right.” The pot of chili bubbled angrily at that moment. He turned down the heat and stirred the pot. “Good idea.”

Wanda couldn’t resist adding, “He thought you were angry with him last night.”

“Angry about what?” Sam’s confusion transitioned to enlightenment. “Oh, about the food thing?” She nodded. “Alright. I forget he’s sensitive and still new to everything sometimes.”

“I know. Me too.” She cringed at her own misstep and the remembered terror in Vision’s eyes when she touched him.

Sam nodded decisively. “We’ll do better.”

Vision drifted into the common area just as Sam and Wanda were putting the food on the table and sitting down. Sam patted the chair next to him. “Hey, Vision. Come and join us tonight.” Vision looked uncertain, but sat down when Wanda smiled at him encouragingly. She took the seat across from Vision, waiting for the others to fill in around them. The rest of the team did look askance at Vision briefly but otherwise made no comment.

Dinner passed in companionable chatting. As the meal broke up, Vision volunteered to clean up, and Wanda stayed behind to help. “Thank you, Miss Maximoff, but I can take care of the dishes. You helped make dinner.”

“I’d like to help.” He gave in with a slight movement that may have qualified as a shrug. They settled into a rhythm as he washed the dishes and handed them to her to dry.

Wanda glanced at him, his eyes intent on the task and carefully ensuring that every speck of food was removed. “May I offer a bit of advice?”

“Always, Miss Maximoff.”

“Teammates, friends, usually refer to each other by their first names. You’re one of us. No one will mind if you just call us by our first names.”

He looked doubtful. “Are you certain…Wanda?”

“Of course. We’re still getting to know each other, but familiarity is a good way to start getting closer.”

“Thank you.” He resumed washing the dishes. After handing her the last plate, he wiped down all the counters. Outside the sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky with reds, oranges, and pinks. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“Sure, Vision.” They strolled outside the compound and gazed up at the sky. They remained there for some time before returning inside. Vision wished her a good night, and Wanda realized that she could begin again here.


End file.
